Bella gerant alii, tu felix Austria, nube
by waitingtoexhale
Summary: Aleksandr von Hohenberg might have renounced his title, but like many others before him, he holds true the family motto.


Author's Notes

Timeline: Post Wold War I. The events on _Goliath_ would've caused America to join the war earlier than expected. At the moment, war hadn't reached the point where both Axis and Allies Powers were devastated with losses. America had been the power that tipped the balance towards the Allies. After the war, Axis Powers nations were separated, and was sentenced to stay with some Allies nations. Austria had stayed with England in London.  
The wedding in this story happened two years after the end of the war.

* * *

_Bella gerant alii, tu felix Austria, nube._

Let others wage wars. You, lucky Austria, shall marry.

* * *

For more than an hour, the young man standing in the balcony hadn't moved from his place. His dark blue suit made him blended well with the shadows. Light from the electric lamps and glowworms below wasn't bright enough to reach the balcony, while the thick curtains blocked the light from inside. The man had been there since the wedding reception started, but he hadn't yet congratulate the bride and groom. At the moment, he watched the newlyweds begin the first dance. The couple stumbled a bit, but then managed to find their rhythm.

"Young love." came a voice from the balcony door. "How lovely."

He hadn't heard the other man coming. But it was nothing new. The British Lion was a warrior turned soldier, and if the rumours are correct, turned spy, too. He sure knew how to be quiet.

"Kids these days started early," he replied.

"At least, these kids are more honest with their feelings." The other guy took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. "The older ones are a little bit stubborn."

Inadvertently, he looked around the garden below, eyes sought after said 'older ones'. Found them standing near the orchestra. Volger's head bent a little as he tried to hear something that Lady Barlow, no, Dr. Barlow was saying.

"Give them time, Arthur. One does not so easily got over a lifetime of education and habit. Even for a chance at love."

The other man sighed. "You're right. Just a little more time." He lighted a cigarette, inhaled it deeply, then puffed out the smoke slowly. "After all, time heals wounds." He sound almost bitter as he said that.

Roderich tried not to roll his eyes. England, the idiot. Only he could find a reason to mope on a wedding party in which himself had been one of the most ardent supporter AND had had a hand in the matchmaking process.

Although, if one really thought about it, it actually made sense. England was the warrior/pirate/soldier/spy, but Arthur Kirkland had always been a sensitive and hopeless romantic. One of the reasons why they got along the last few years he was stuck with England. Well, that and the music and the not-so-obvious matchmaking attempts.

But he would not let it get worse. Not this particular night. Roderich was not so blind to the fact that everytime Arthur started to mope on *that* particular subject, dark clouds forming over London. No. Not on a night of celebration and festivities, especially for one young ex-prince Alex Hohenberg and his bride, Lady Deryn Sharp.

"Everything happens on its own time, Arthur," he started, half turned around so he could look at Arthur in the eye. "Just like you said, the older ones are a little bit stubborn. The older we are, the more stubborn we become." In softer tones, he added, "The more time we need."

Arthur's eyes looked suspiciously bright for a moment, then he nodded. "I get it. No more moping for tonight. Deryn would sic Volger on me if I made it rain on the night of her party."

Roderich sniggered at that. Volger, despite being skeptic and suspicious and more often at odds with Midshipment Dylan Sharp, were having a hard time to resist an older, long haired, more polite _Deryn_ Sharp, especially after Alex taught her how to act ladylike in order to win her bet with Lilith (who had said that even if she'd manage to fool British Air Service into thinking that she was a boy, she wouldn't know shit about being the lady fiancee of one former-prince Aleksandr von Hohenberg with making people suspicious of her stint as _Dylan_ a couple years previous).

After all, Volger had always have a weakness with women with soft voices and iron will who were good on expressing their opinions. Alek's mother-Princess Sophie von Hohenberg was one. The Emprress, Alek's grandaunt, was another. Now, Dr. Barlow, she's perfect, really. If only both of them would hold back a little on their ego...

"I don't like that look." Arthur said suddenly.

"What look?" Roderich queried. "Whose?"

"Deryn looked this way just now, and she was smirking."

"That girl..."

"...was under the delusion that she could set us up together."

"Which we both know is virtually impossible."

"We'd better come down there before she get any ideas."

"That would be best."

TBC

* * *

Cross posted on AO3, under hereweshallmeetagain


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